Sherlocks Woman
by Frailly
Summary: A scandal brings truths into the open, truces to be made and perhaps a long awaiting love to finally blossom! Holmes/Irene/Watson, it's better than it sounds.
1. Chapter 1

**Declaimer:**** I own nothing, except a slight extreme obsession with the relationship between Holmes and Adler. :)**

**Summary:**** A scandal brings truths into the open, truces to be made and perhaps a long awaiting love to finally blossom! Holmes/Irene/Watson, it's better than it sounds. **

**Enjoy!**

**Sherlock's Woman**

It was a fight; a desperate struggle and it did not go without tears and screams and cries and hands clutching skin so tightly, bruises appeared in flutters of butterflies on her skin but Holmes just can't let her go this time. Not this time. So he holds on with all the strength he has, which is exceptionally more than hers and she knows it. That is why she screams and yells and fights. Eventually the cries come, the tears of relinquishment. She knows he won't let her go this time, but the reason she cries is because she is grateful that he won't. She is finally at home with Holmes and she is safe.

Eventually she is sobbing without care in his arms, and her body aches like it has never ached before. Holmes rocks her and shushes her and mutters sweet nothings in her ear, whilst his eyes scan over her bruised and broken body, the deep abrasions and welts that she stumbled through his window in. The new light purpling bruises on her arms and on her waist are from him. He will kiss those extra softly.

'Irene...' He whispers softly, gruffly as the emotion is thick in his throat. 'You don't need to run anymore.' He kisses her forehead to extenuate the point and she suddenly stops breathing, she is motionless...before suddenly letting out a small, delicate sigh of relief.

'Thank you.' Is all she says before snuggling deeper against his chest once more.

**A month prior...**

'Nanny what have you done with my handkerchief! You know I like to always have one on me before I enter the outside.' Sherlock snapped down the stairs, bellowing at the as yet to be seen landlady of the residence. Holmes suspected she was deliberately evading view today.

'Fine, have it your way Nanny, you clearly wish me to catch a cold and eventually succumb to some terrible illness!' He yelled although you could slightly hear his mocking tease in his voice as he shouted down the stairs once again.

He stormed back into his room, threw on his long coat, swiftly wrapped a scarf around his neck and walked out into the brisk, bitter November night.

The air was indeed biting and quite a bit more unbearable than normal. Hardly anyone stalked the streets, and if they did they walked in a fast stride to their intended destination. Holmes' breath swirled clearly up into the night sky, joining the many other vapours and fumes London permitted yearly round.

It didn't evade Sherlock's notice however that a small figure was following him through the dark night, ducking between the shadows to avoid being seen. He kept walking, but slowed his pace to a leisurely summer walk intended to give false confidence to his mysterious shadow.

In this short amount of time, Sherlock had already judged and scrutinized all he needed to know, and made some few choice assumptions he was pretty confident he would be proven right on. For example he had noted that the figure was not much more than 5 foot 2 and was slender and dainty in weight, especially considering the agility portrayed so far.

And perhaps more importantly, Sherlock had decided he was nearly a hundred percent sure as to who it was. That smell of jasmine perfume never left his olfactory gland. Irene Adler.

Now it was a simply a matter of to catching _her_ in the act.

He suddenly and quite swiftly bolted down a side alley and made quick use of the many items of bulk and size to hide behind. He listened as the smaller footsteps of the _woman_ approached and counted the seconds it would take her to look around the long alley and pass across where he was hiding. It was four seconds.

Then he pounced.

He grabbed Irene around the waist and lifted her easily of her feet; the short, sharp yelp of surprise was his first piece of evidence that he was indeed right about who it was. She fought like a wild cat in his arms, and as her body pressed against his, the softness of her skin and the roundness of her breasts under his touch not only excited his senses, but also gave away his second piece of evidence that it was indeed her.

'Now now my Darling, play nice.' He grumbled into her ear and for once, doing as she was told, Irene stilled in Sherlock's embrace, huffing in defeat.

'How did you know it was me?' She asked in that high lilted voice of hers and Sherlock had to fight the hammering of his heart beneath his chest, for fear she was to feel it against her back.

'I know you.' he said before shifting her until she was now facing him, but he still had a firm hold around her waist.

'If I let you go, you won't run off will you?' He said and then was thoroughly surprised when Irene's lips came crashing down against his. It was a short; passion filled, yearned for kiss, but was over before either could truly savour it.

'Of course I won't run off. Honestly Sherlock you never trust me.' She moaned slightly, still very close to his lips and for a split second he was speechless as he stared intently at those red wine lips that had just assaulted his own.

'Ahem... well yes I often wonder myself.' He said sarcastically and then somewhat dismayed, released her from his grip. He instantly missed the warmth of her against him, but it didn't go unnoticed to him that she shivered slightly under her breath as he let go.

'Not that I don't enjoy seeing you darling, but why are you here?' He asked somewhat sceptical.

'I missed you.' She said, and shone a sincere 'Irene' smile at him. One he couldn't help but return.

'And...' She continued and here Sherlock rolled his eyes.

'You need my help.' He said somewhat exasperated. However, when he looked at her, she was for a moment, appearing to fight inwardly with some emotion, almost something akin to sadness.

'No I don't need your help Holmes.' She spat. 'I need you.'

And with those three words, Sherlock Holmes was completely Irene Adler's once more.

**Chapter two coming soon...**

**What do you think? I know it may not fit their characters but hey ho!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews so far, you two lovely people, enjoy this!**

**Chapter two**

Holmes stared at her for a long, long time in silence as she silently sipped at her tea and finished her bread and light tomato soup Mrs Hudson brought her despite the time of the night it was. He noticed how she ate with contentment on her face, and relished every mouthful for its entirety. But with this he also noted that she was skinnier than normal, she was paler. It made her dark hair look all the more striking against her snow-white skin.

It seemed his Woman was more in over her head then he first thought. He was glad she was here now though.

'So then...' She suddenly chirped, placing her empty soup bowl down, ignoring the bread all together. 'Did you miss me?' She finished, with a devilish smirk playing against her lips.

'No absolutely not, well perhaps a little, but slightly, actually rather a lot...actually, what I mean is erm sadly...yes.' He finished growing pinker around the cheeks.

He was rewarded with her tinkling laugh, one that made his heart ignite with passion.

'Do you remember what I said to you on top of Tower Bridge?' She asked after a minute's silence.

'That you didn't want to run anymore. You would tell me everything. I said I wish you would, I still wish you would.' He said softly, looking directly at her.

'Yes well I meant it. But first I need assurance that I can.' Irene answers just as softly.

'Can what?' Sherlock asks unsure.

'Can stop running.' She answers and looks up at him fearfully, before pulling on her 'mask' once more and appearing rather nonchalant about the answer she was awaiting. Sherlock wasn't fooled. He looked into her green emerald eyes, brighter than any she had stolen in the past and worth a whole lot more in Sherlock's books and mentally willed assurance to her, whilst he tried to sum up the correct words to speak.

However just as he was about to answer, to tell her he would always be here for her, that she needn't run anymore, the clock in the hallway chimed loudly and both jumped at the sound. Irene was first to break the silence with a chuckle, before rising to her feet.

'I better go.' She said, looking swiftly to the window and back, only to be met with the outraged eyes of Sherlock.

'Well my darling, firstly I cannot let you go on your own this late, being a woman and all, and secondly, I thought you needed my help, or rather me. How can I know what to expect if I am not at least proffered some information first?' He said before suddenly reaching across the space as Irene made a move towards the door.

'Irene.' He scolded, grabbing hold of her wrist to still her. 'Please, tell me what's going on.'

She looked at him with wide eyes that quickly filled with tears. This surprised Holmes so much he loosed his grip and instead pulled her close to him, as an alien feeling shooting through him, urging him to comfort her took over his senses.

'Irene, please, what has gotten you so unlike yourself my darling? In over your head I know, but Irene Adler crying, afraid? What could possibly be wrong?' He asked, reaching out to stroke her cheek whilst bringing her face towards his chest to rest, encouraging her to calm down.

'It's Moriarty.' She said after a few minutes. 'I told you Sherlock, he's deviant and brilliant, and so ruthless I'm frightened, terrified for the events I just know is coming. I work for him, as you know, and...' Here she paused whilst he nodded and swiftly kissed her temple.

'I tried to leave his employment several times, even once whilst I was here last with you. He is beyond corrupt. I know I'm no angel, but the things this man is capable of...He kept me to him by using my weakness as a threat.'

'That would be me.' Sherlock summarised with a slight smile.

'Don't get a big head.' She chuckled, herself coming through for the first time since the story began.

'Well I didn't know but he'd grown quite infatuated with me, and when I declined several times, he...he went crazy.' She felt Sherlock tighten his hold on her.

'So you ran?' He asked with a tight lipped voice, she worried for a moment if it was anger towards her, but when he kept stroking her hair she continued.

Yes. I didn't know what to do, and I know he'll be after me, and I know that also means he'll be after you and I don't know what to do anymore. He killed my roommate I was sharing with in Italy; I guess he was looking for me. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you.' She admitted with a tearful inflection to her voice, not caring that her facade had slipped or that she was showing her vulnerability, she _needed_ Sherlock.

Sherlock was once again silent for a long time, whilst Irene sat in his arms, her mind working full time as to what he was thinking.

Just as she was about to say something, to move, or get up, she was thoroughly surprised and silenced, when Sherlock's arm wove under her legs, whilst the other across her back and he lifted her swiftly and easily.

'Holmes!' She shrieked, 'what are you doing?' She demanded as he jigged her slightly in his arms, causing her voice to hitch with the involuntary flinching of her body.

'I'm putting you to bed.' He stated simply as he quite literally dropped her on the bed.

'But...I can't stay here. I have a room...' She went to protest but he instantly interrupted. 'At the Royale? You're very predictable at times my love, if Moriarty is after you, he will surely look there. Therefore you are to stay here, with me, where I can keep an eye on you.' He finished, and swiftly pulled of her shoes in one flush movement. Irene was generally speechless.

She just nodded, seeing sense in what he was saying, and slowly and almost shyly for the formidable Irene Adler, shrugged off her waist coat. Her hands went to unbutton her young boy's trousers that fit her perfectly for when she needed to move about freely and she shimmied out of them. Sherlock suddenly turned and grabbed the end of the trouser legs to pull them off for her and Irene laughed at the sudden change in Sherlock.

'Thank you...I think.' She joked, and he simply smiled at her, before shrugging out of his own jacket, shoes and braces and flopped on the bed next to her.

'Go to sleep. Rest. We will sort this all out. We will stop Moriarty and then perhaps we'll even sort you out woman.' He said with a smirk, as Irene opened her mouth indignantly. Her hand came to rest on his inner thigh and he flinched before he could stop himself.

'Now now dear, there will be none of that. I wouldn't want people to think I took advantage of you.' He said turning his back to her and settling his head deeper on the pillow.

Just as he was dropping off completely into sleep, he felt a tender kiss to his temple and a beautifully quiet whisper. 'Thank you Sherlock.'

He smiled and turned almost unconsciously to cuddle up against his woman, lulled into a restful sleep by the feeling of her breathing beneath him. Little did he know that Irene slept just as soundly, lulled by his heartbeat and warmth in that night.

And so the two slept, for once at truce in each other's arms, whilst outside the monsters prowled; moving closer to their target, to the _kill_.

**Chapter three coming soon!**

**Hope you like it, bit mushy but I can't help it, I'm hopelessly in love with these two!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks again you two for reviewing :) squee's and smiles for both!**

**Chapter three**

They stayed like that the entire night, tightly locked together and it was like this that Watson finds them in the morning. He is quiet as he takes in the sight. Holmes, his best friend, is lovingly protecting the only person to ever outsmart him. He is cradling her against him as they both breathe softly in and out. He looks closer at the wonder that is Miss. Adler. Her red ruby lips are slightly parted, and her pale face looked peaceful despite the obvious sign that she has been crying previously. He studiously ignored the fact that she was dressed only in a small white shirt and cream underwear, despite the fact that her legs are exceptionally lovely.

Instead he goes to move forward deciding to wake Sherlock up, not having the heart to wake the master thieve in her peaceful state such as it is.

'Wake up old boy.' He whispered into the dim room as he lightly nudges Holmes' shoulder. Holmes swiftly jerks to life, looking wide eyed up at Watson.

'What! Nanny!' Sherlock half stutters, half shouts, before focusing in on Watson standing above him. 'Ah Watson, good morning, is it morning, night still? What are you doing here?' He asked in quick succession as Watson had already begun his ritual of moving around Holmes' room, adjusting items and shifting the curtains.

However instead of Holmes diving away from the offending light and shielding his own eyes, he gently shields Irene's eyes instead, hoping to keep her sleeping. It works, she mumbles slightly, and rolls away from Sherlock, cuddling into herself instead. He watches her for a moment as Watson watches him watch her. He finally turns to his friend with a sedated smile of contentment on his face.

'We really must let her sleep, she needs it.' Holmes said and Watson had to stop to look at his friend; the friend that normally showed very little care towards others.

'Well not that it's not lovely seeing Miss Adler again, but is there a particularly reason she is here?' Watson asks quietly as Sherlock ushers him to the furthest part of the room.

'She has finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel, that light being me of course!' Sherlock says triumphantly, Watson simply rolls his eyes. 'And?' he adds, knowing full well there is another reason.

'And events have transpired that leads her to believe I am in danger, and that leads me to believe that I can't nor shant ever take my eyes off her again.' Holmes finishes softly.

For a moment Watson is stunned, so his inkling that Sherlock has long be since harbouring feelings for the sleeping girl across the room are right. Explains why he had kept her portrait on his desk all these years.

'So opinion old boy?' Holmes asks striking up his pipe, bringing Watson out of his thoughts.

'Well obviously we shall have to help her. But perhaps a bit more information wouldn't go a miss.' He suggests, once again flitting his eyes across the room to where Irene lay, despite his conscious telling him not to because of her state of undress.

Sherlock's chuckle brought him back once again. It took ten minutes for Holmes to fill Watson in on what Irene had told him and another half an hour for him to offer all his speculations as to what he really thinks and how he felt they should approach the situation. However when he also suggested that Watson do a medical check on Irene, John finally had to interrupt.

'What! Why on earth would you want me to do that?' He splutters, snatching Sherlock's pipe for himself.

'Because I fear she has been under more stress than a woman should be. Just look at her. She has lost a considerable amount of weight; there are dark circles under her eyes and she cried last night.' Sherlock finished as if it was most obvious. Watson just stared.

'I'm sorry to break it to you Holmes, but woman cry and despite you believing Miss Adler to be a much higher species of woman, she too, does cry.' Watson said sarcastically.

'Yes but it must take a lot for Irene to cry.' Holmes stated indignantly.

Watson felt his heart twang at his friend's innocence. 'She was crying for your safety.' Holmes stared at him with wide eyes before coughing rather loudly. 'Oh.' He said, then looking over at Irene he stood up. 'Watson, can you have Nanny bring up some breakfast for us all, I trust you will be joining us?' He asked and Watson smiled in agreement. 'Oh and Watson, make sure she doesn't slip any poison in my tea!' He shouted after Watson had left.

'Irene time to wake up now.' He said softly, gently nudging her and then blowing a wisp of air into her ear. She flinched away but her eyes did flutter open. 'Good morning Sherlock.' She smiled up at him and Holmes was revitalized once again. 'Good morning Irene.'

...

After a breakfast and plan, all three set off to Royale to collect Irene's things. Watson diverged towards the market to get some things. Irene latched on to Sherlock's arm whilst they walked.

Irene smirked over at Sherlock whilst he looked dubiously into her wardrobe, at the many fine and delicate fabrics that lay before him; he was quite unsure where to begin. She noted how he looked at his hands a few times and ran his fingers together, as if afraid his skin too rough to touch such soft items.

'Are you going to pack them, or just stare?' She said, before turning away quickly and continuing to sort through her drawers. She could feel his eyes boring a glare into the back of her head. A moments silence and then she heard the rustle of the dresses finally being moved.

So emerged in her work was she, she hadn't noticed when Sherlock clicked the suitcase shut. He slowly stalked towards her, her still pleasantly unaware. He was mesmerized by the beauty before him, kneeled delicately on the floor, world of her own. He was powerless to his actions, he just wanted-needed to be next to her, and that was why he stalked towards her now.

He gently, ever so gently, Irene still didn't feel a thing, he pulled at the knot at the back of hair, letting it instead tumble down and cascade around her shoulders and back. She jumped slightly as she finally noticed Sherlock was pressed right up close behind her. She unconsciously leant against him so they touched.

'I think we need to get you into something more feminine.' He whispered, his hand having found his way to the front of her shirt and undoing the buttons. She started to breath heavily. 'Do you not agree my darling?' he asked softly, reaching the third button.

'I do.' She whispered, allowing Sherlock to turn her around in his arms and nuzzled her nose against his neck, nibbling his ear a little, eliciting a grunt from him. 'Are you sure?' She asked, unsure of where this sudden change in Holmes came from. He had rejected her every time she tried in the past.

However, when he suddenly flipped her up and onto the bed, she knew he was sure.

Before long they were tightly embraced, as she rocked teasingly against his groin, wrapping her legs around his waist whilst he passionately kissed her now bear shoulders and the edges of her corset. 'Irene, oh Irene.' He murmured as she gave enticing little sounds to encourage him.

'Well isn't this special.' A sudden gruff voice spat, pressing a gun to Sherlock's head, stilling both instantly.

Sherlock looked into Irene eyes, they were already brimming with tears, and a sudden uproar of anger shot through Sherlock. He, faster than lightning, brushed his finger across her cheek to rid it of her tears, and pushing her backwards, freeing his legs, he swung around and elbowed the man hard across the cheek.

Irene was just as quick, rolling of the bed and shooting low across the ground, she swung her leg out to trip the already stumbling man. 'How dare you, how dare you!' Sherlock was grumbling, laying a swift few kicks at the man, shocking Irene at the anger she heard in his voice.

'Sherlock come on.' She said, reaching across at his arm, and he snapped round to face her. His eyes were wide before realising it was her, standing with her tight trousers and beautiful silk corset, every inch the woman. 'Let's go.' He said, taking her hand and leading the way towards the door.

As he swung it open however, the butt of gun came from nowhere, impacting hard with Sherlock's head, causing him to fall hard backwards, knocking Irene down in the process and trapping her against the floor.

'Sherlock!' She gasped, pushing hard to get him off her, but it was too late, a strong pair of arms had hooked beneath her arms to yank her up. She was now face to face with Moriarty, Holmes was unconscious and Irene had no plan of escape.

**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter three**

'Moriarty please!' Irene screamed as the professor laid yet another kick into the unconscious Sherlock's side. 'Leave him alone, please, I'll come with you but please don't hurt him!' Irene begged, completely unlike her normal, calm self she portrayed.

'Don't worry my dear, you will be coming with me, but not before this second rate detective is dead.' He sneered, causing the brute holding Irene to snicker, tightening his hold around her chest and middle.

'Do I get a say in this?' A sudden voice sounded from the door, and all heads whipped in that direction. 'Doctor!' Irene gasped happily at the sight of John Watson. Moriarty practically growled with annoyance whilst the brute holding Irene was momentarily distracted, Irene pushed back against him as much as she could, causing him to stumble, and loosen his grip on her.

'Now!' She screamed, throwing her head back and knocking the ugly man in the nose and then swopping low to completely trip him up. At the same time Watson threw his baton stick forward hitting Moriarty in the stomach. Irene had already crawled over to Sherlock whilst Watson continued to dual with the Professor.

'Sherlock, Sherlock can you hear me? Come on!' She squeaked desperately, shaking him roughly with the wavering strength she had and slapping him gently around the face to rouse him. It worked, as Holmes gasped back to reality, throwing his head forward in a panic, compacting against Irene's with a sickening thud.

Both cried out in agony.

'Irene!' Holmes cried out as she rocked backwards holding her head with both hands, as her eyes rolled backwards. His own throbbed more than it had in a long, long time. His ears rang and his eyes blurred, but he blindly threw his arms out, trying to grab hold of Irene, trying to support her, noticing in his own daze how she didn't have any control.

'Come on now, this isn't time for a nap is it?' He joked through pain, before finally noticing the fray John was losing across from him with the Professor. He was torn in half, looking to Irene and then to the struggling Doctor, weighing up his predicament in a lightning speed. 'I'll be right back.' He murmured to Irene, and ran over to help John out instead.

Thankfully, akin to a miracle, the commotion brought with it the security of the hotel. And before Sherlock could even grab the lapel of Moriarty, he and his brutish thug disappeared literally as if between smoke and mirrors. 'What's going on here?' The security yelled, only seeing Sherlock and the Doctor through the sudden smoke Moriarty left behind.

'Nothing, nothing anymore, it's over now.' Watson said through a tired haze. Ushering the security out after a few more moments of discussion, during which Sherlock ran over to Irene, she was lying out cold on the floor. The sight was such a shock; Holmes didn't know what to do for a minute.

'Irene?' He whispered, crouching down beside her. 'I'm sorry.' He mumbled, not knowing what else to say as he tentatively touched her cheek. Watson too was speechless, looking over at Sherlock, and noticed his eyes were closed tightly, when he re-opened them, it didn't go unnoticed the tears that lingered on the tips of his eyelashes.

'She'll be ok, come on.' Watson half spat half soothed, staring intently at the space Moriarty disappeared, as his strong arms weaved beneath Irene to lift her. Sherlock dumbly followed as they made their way back to Baker Street.

...

'You really knocked her for six didn't you Holmes.' Watson said as he gently inspected the bump on Irene's head and she flinched away. 'Doctor...' Irene warned foreseeing her hidden loves reaction and sure enough in the next minute Holmes suddenly tugged Watson roughly back by shirt collar.

'It was an accident; I would never intentionally hurt her!' Sherlock spat, and Watson was up on his feet within an instant. He pushed roughly back at Holmes. 'I know Holmes, but that doesn't invade the fact she was out cold and in pain now, does it!' He spat back, not realizing both we're simply fighting because of the pent up anger from the unfinished fight with Moriarty. 'Gentlemen!' Irene spat across the room, and both men jerked apart from each other with startled expressions.

'Holmes, Holmes this is futile, we needn't fight!' Watson yelled, pushing Sherlock finally away from him. 'At least not in front of the lady.' He joked, tipping an eyebrow in Irene's direction.

'Yes you're right, sorry.' Sherlock mumbled, scooting over to Irene. 'I trust you're staying here tonight John, with us?' He asked generally. Irene simply nodded next to him, leaning against Sherlock delicately.

'Well yes, but we won't be getting much sleep old boy; this one needs to stay awake for a few hours; to be sure she's ok. Doctor's orders.' He sighed, looking apologetically over at the very tired looking Irene. 'Very well then. A game then and a generous glass of wine perhaps?' Sherlock chirped happier, unconsciously rubbing his hand up and down Irene's arm. This didn't go unnoticed by his friend.

Instead, Watson smiled at his once cold-exterior fronted friend, now seemingly progressing to a love hardy fool! Marvellous, John thought, before clapping heartily along with his two friends, and joining in on the nights events.

Hours into the night, when the London nightlife was even simmering down and the fog had settled low into the streets, the three were unavoidably asleep and passed out with smiles on their faces. Watson was laid copiously out on the plush settee. Sherlock was led out along the bed, with Irene cuddled gently in his arms, even in sleep the two had cat like grins on their face. Only once would Irene wake and stretch out against the moonlit window like a wild cat, and for the first time in her adventuress life, she didn't long to be elsewhere. She didn't wish to be out in the buzzing streets and teaming feats of the world, instead, everything she wished for was right here.

So she turned around, and smiled upon the true face of her family. She gently loosened Watson's tie and hung up his hat. She kissed him on the forehead in her private moment between hours when no one could see her. She then turned to Sherlock, asleep like a four year old, sprawled out on his belly and smiled. She silently removed his shoes and lifting his strong muscular arm, she cuddled up beneath him once more.

The seductress and adventuress had finally found her place in the world, now it was a simple matter of securing it from the filthy grips of Professor Moriarty and his cruel world.

**To be continued...:) Thank you so much for the reviews so far guys! Makes a girl happy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five**

Holmes was the first to awake, noticing almost at once the warm sensation against his side, breathing softly in and out. He smiled down into the chestnut mess that was the top of Irene's curls.

'Good morning my sweet.' Sherlock whispered, sensing rather than seeing Irene's eyes flutter open.

'Good Morning.' She whispered back, turning round a little to look directly into his eyes.

'Did you sleep well?' Sherlock asked eliciting a tiny giggle from Irene. 'That's a very normal question for the thinking Sherlock Holmes. Be normal' She joked, still talking in whispers.

'Good, because really I wanted to talk about the plan that came to me whist I was sleeping. I do believe it's the best plan of action.' Sherlock finished, looking lovingly into Irene's eyes. She raised an eyebrow in question.

'We run.' He said simply. 'We go away for a while, until we've simmered it down, and it's sorted. I know of a lovely place in France. Watson and Mary can come alone. It will be brilliant.' He added and crossed his fingers behind his back in the hope that she liked the plan.

'You would run for me? You would abandon this place, your work, for me?' She asked sceptically. He bent his head to press a long and lingering kiss to her lips, taking his time to give as much as he could to her in that one kiss and when he pulled away, he noticed the serine look settling on Irene's face. 'You really are the best thing to ever happen to me. My life has never been kind to me, I've had to fight. But you, you just...' She was stuttering, before shrugging her delicate shoulders giving up on finishing the sentence.

'Right back at you darling.' Sherlock said anyway, understanding exactly what she meant.

'You two, honestly, come on breakfast is awaiting us.' Watson suddenly interrupted from the door; neither had even noticed that he wasn't in the room. Irene had the good grace to blush slightly, before sitting up and stretching, mimicking the cat like appearance Watson so often likened her too.

'Your head any better this morning?' He asked, gentlemanly turning around whilst she dressed appropriately for downstairs. It didn't go unnoticed by the Doctor though, that Sherlock bluntly stared at her the entire time. He threw the first object in reach at his head. He heard the tinkling laugh of Irene, before she answered curtly with 'Yes thank you Doctor.'

As Irene greeted Mrs Hudson and helped arrange the freshly looking breakfast, Holmes suddenly drew Watson to one side. 'We need to talk...' He said and with such a solemn tone, John was instantly concerned.

They excused themselves briefly whilst the ladies continued to chat.

'Holmes you cannot be serious man!' Watson burst out unable to accept such an awful plan, but Sherlock quickly threw his hand to his friend's mouth in a wish to shush him.

'It's the only way Watson, I assure you, I've thought long and hard about this and if there was any other way I would snatch it up within a second, but as it is, there isn't and so as much as it pains me to do so...I'm going to have to let Irene go.' He finished, looking sadly into Watson's eyes.

'She won't go willingly.' Watson said simply.

'I know, that's why I need your help. Please.' Holmes asked and Watson felt so sorry for his friend and fast becoming friend currently in the kitchen that he simply nodded dumbly, feeling his heart ache just that little bit more.

...

Irene walked happily by Sherlock's side with her small luggage case swinging gaily in her hand. Sherlock however was quieter. The steaming shuffling snuffling trains were all around them and the platforms of London were grey and menacing in their presence.

Watson was a few feet behind, before fully ducking away from the two, unknown to Adler, but he had been instructed to go and talk to the driver.

'Here let me take that for you.' Sherlock said, taking the bag from Irene and placing his own on the floor by his feet as they stood by the door. He looked deep into her face for a long, long moment and tried desperately to remember the excited smile, like a little girl, as Irene looked around at the train and the people and the thought of a new adventure. She was so much like him. And he loved her so much for it, it hurt so much what he was about to do.

'Look there Irene...' He said pointing to a small scuffle up ahead, and in that moment whilst she looked away, he opened the door and positioned himself just in front. He then turned and looked to John up ahead with the driver; he motioned a thumb up, and then held up two fingers. Two minutes. And the train would leave.

Holmes then pulled a browning letter from his pocket. Irene turned back to him with a smirk. 'Take bets on who'll win?' She said, still referring to the fight up ahead.

Sherlock's heart broke even further at the playful nature of his love. 'The one with the red cap.' He said huskily and Irene's brow furrowed.

One minute.

'I think the other; if I win I get a kiss in public.' She said tongue in cheek and Sherlock barely had the strength to smile through his aching heart. 'Of course, for you darling.'

And then the moment came, when John held up an entire hand, the final signal, and Sherlock steeled his heart for the task at hand. He swiftly and suddenly grabbed Irene around the waist and hoisted her up onto the train entrance.

She yelped at the surprise of it, before looking down at him in confusion, tightly grabbing a fistful of his jacket in her small hand. 'Sherlock?' She asked in a high voice, already feeling the onset of tears, sensing the sudden gloom of the situation.

'I'm sorry my Love. Here.' He said, using one hand to quickly throw her bag beside her and press the letter to her chest. With his other hand he grabbed her thin wrist and yanked her hand away from his chest. Of course she instantly began to fight as she realized he had no intention on joining her.

'No Sherlock! You can't so this!' She shrieked, making to leap off the train but Sherlock pushed her forcefully and she stumbled falling backwards, ending up seated on the floor of the train, her bonnet having fell from her head . 'But I love you.' She cried, now letting the tears fall, whilst trying to stand up through the vibrations of the train kicking into life.

'As I love you.' He said, and then slammed the heavy door shut and just had enough time to move back a step before the train literally rumbled out the station and away.

Sherlock watched the train for a long, long moment, only ripping his eyes from the place it had been when Watson laid a hand on his friends shoulder. 'The deed is done. Come on. The sooner we sort this mess, the sooner you can be reunited with Miss. Adler.' Watson said softly.

'If she'll have me back. I've betrayed her John, I told her I loved her and then sent her away.' He choked and Watson couldn't believe what he had heard.

'You told her you loved her? Do you?' He asked, taking his friends case from the man's limp hands.

'Yes.' Was all he said, as he looked up ahead at the fighting duo, just as the man in the red cap fell to the ground. Irene was right, the other had won.

'Come on.' Watson said softly.

...

Irene had managed to collapse on a seat before literally breaking down in tears, she had never before been deceived so outright, she had told the man she loved him and he still sent her away. Her heart was shattered. Irene Adler was shattered.

She numbly unfolded the letter that was scrunched up in her hand and opened it.

_Dearest Irene,_

_I cannot apologise enough for what I have done, but you must understand it is for the best. I cannot have you in the face of danger, I cannot witness you get hurt again. So I have sent you away, the address of a nice villa I've rented for you is listed below, please just see this as a holiday, a break from such trivial matters. I will call for you and come back to you when I have disposed of the Professor and London is safe for the love of my life once more. Because that is what you are. I love you Miss. Irene Adler, adventuress and femme fatele. You had me from the start. Until we see each other again, know that I am forever yours._

_Sherlock.H_

She finished reading the letter and shed the last remaining tears before she finally looked up. She saw a few ladies up ahead glancing at her pitifully and suddenly felt anger boil up inside her instead of hurt. She wouldn't just let him send her away, like a fragile girl. She could take care of herself, and if he didn't want her getting hurt, what made him think she could stand by and watch whilst he got hurt!

Sherlock was in for a right ear full when she got back, which she would. She had already begun planning her trip back and her own plan to take down Moriarty, she would return to Sherlock and prove him wrong, she'd done it before, she'd do it again and she'd slap that good for nothing detective right in the face for doing this to her, before kissing him senseless that was.

Irene placed her bonnet on once more, the familiar glint of the tiger shining just behind her almond eyes as the train rushed through the country side.

**Chapter six coming soon, thank you, you guys for the lovely reviews and messages, I mean what I said, if you have any ideas you'd like to incorporate feel free to suggest! :) Till next time...Frailly x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

'Are you positive Holmes that this is where Moriarty is meant to be staying?' Watson said in a whisper outside a dark and imposing backstreet building. The windows were all blacked out and the door was large and ominous. It had taken several, several days for Sherlock and Watson's combined efforts to hunt down the mysterious professor.

When one listens closer enough to the gossip of London streets and keeps ones ears pressed to the ground, you find out the characters that arouse suspicion in these parts. And a cloaked figure marching through these streets seen one minute, then gone the next, will certainly be the talk among the ruffians of Fleet Street and beyond.

'Yes Watson, I have firm and secure information that this is the temporary apartment Moriarty is staying at. He doesn't know Irene's been sent away, so he's still on the hunt for her here.' Sherlock stated surely, and pressed forward and onward towards the entrance.

'I just hope you're right...' Watson whispered, unsheathing his foil and following Sherlock. Lestrande and three officers who had joined them, was not amused at all by the two's casual chat just before the raid. 'Can we just get the damn guy already; I've been waiting to get Moriarty for years now hurry up.' Lestrande spat causing Sherlock to smirk happily.

A few dozen feet away, Irene, having finally stepped back into London, stood in the shadows. The train ride had taken her to her supposed destination, and yes Holmes was right, it was a beautiful villa, and he had even had flowers sent there for her. But Irene was no ordinary woman, and her man was in danger and that made her heart ache almost relentlessly.

So she stayed there for the night, having travelled at length and for a long, long time. But she was up and ready the next day, dressed in her youthful boys suit, looking like a very trim and rather risqué woman. She secretly knew that Sherlock loved it when she wore trousers; he said it showed of her legs better. Irene smiled as she thought of him.

She quickly deposited her stuff back at Baker Street, being sure they were too busy focusing on preparing in the kitchen. Lovely Mrs Hudson had let her in through the back, holding up her finger to her lips to signal to Irene that she was safe. Irene quickly hid upstairs and waited till they left; instantly heading to the place they said but being sure not to be seen.

And so unknown to the world's most made for lovers, they were so close to each other, whilst missing the other as though they were miles away. And at the exact same time, almost as if they were sequenced, stepped into the gloomy building from different sides at the same time.

Sherlock and Watson stood there for a few minutes, as their eyes adjusted to the dark, before settling on the thin line of light glowing from beneath what was presumably the main room. The light was coming from a fire. The light smell of liquor was drifting all through the house.

'In there then?' Watson stated obviously, earning an eye roll from Sherlock, and an equally exaggerated eye roll from Irene across the hall and down the stairs in her hiding place.

Sherlock pushed the door open before bursting in all the way, with Watson close behind him, both in fight mode instantly. 'We didn't really have a plan did we?' Sherlock said after a minute of standing there, eyeing the room. 'No we didn't.' Watson stated angrily. 'Well you two have wasted my time as per bloody obvious!' Lestrande yelled before the two had enough time to shush him.

'Can you not hear that?' Sherlock spat at Lestrande, and all listened closely to a low whirring sound. 'What is it?' Lestrande dared to ask, when Watson all but burned holes into Sherlock with intensity waiting for an answer.

'I do believe...' Sherlock said, following the sound to the walls, and pressing his ear close to the wall. 'It's a bomb.' He finished strangely calm before being the first to run to the door, followed quickly by all else.

He pushed the door open hard leading the way, when he ran straight into a smaller, slender figure. The two tumbled to the floor, and Sherlock raised his hand to knock the person out when a shrill cry of, 'It's me Sherlock!' Was heard, stopping Sherlock mere inches from Irene's face. He looked disbelieving at Irene, already feeling the tug of Watson pulling him up, he pulled Irene up with him, circling an arm around her waist, holding her tightly, and they continued the mad dash to get away.

But it was too late, the whirring had stopped and a loud clacking sound, as though a metal piece was dropping into place sounded, and the place exploded with all inside.

The explosion was deafening. The ringing lasted a good long time in Sherlock's ears as he stumbled to his feet searching the debris and wreckage for his colleagues, friend and woman. 'Irene! John!' He shouted, though to his ears it sounded like a far off call from across the hills.

John lurched to live beneath a white dusty stretch of ceiling. 'Sherlock you're ok.' He said, touching a bleeding wound on his forehead. Sherlock smiled, tapping his best friends heartedly on the back and both turned to search for the others.

Lestrande was up ahead, sitting with his legs spread out before him like a child, he looked thoroughly disgruntled. Two of the officers were helping their much worse of friend sit up and undo his tie.

There was no sign of Irene.

'Irene!' Sherlock yelled kicking through the rubble.

'Miss Adler?' John shouted concerned for the woman amidst the hell hole that was once Moriarty's place. 'She's not here Holmes.' He said sadly, helping Sherlock stand sensing his friend's sudden deflation. The others had already started to amble out.

Sherlock looked desperately over the scene before him, before nodding sadly, knowing really that even if she was here, she would be hiding, he wouldn't be able to say why, but he knew her and knew she would do just that. Whatever the cause, he knew for certain, maybe because he loved her wholly and truly, that she wasn't in danger at that moment.

'I'll leave my window open for you. Please come back to me.' He said into the now smoking and quiet ruins. Watson stayed quiet as his best friend spoke into the silence.

...

Three hours later, it was nearing midnight. Sherlock had sat at the window, not moving at all.

He knew she would come to him. She always did, Irene always came back, and he saw her eyes just before the explosion and they were just happy to see him despite the events at the time.

And he was right, Sherlock is always right. He smiled softly as he heard Irene's soft foot falls climb the little shed outside, and he rose from his chair to lean out and offer her a hand up. She took it.

When he had hoisted her inside, they pulled apart for a second, before literally crashing into each other's arms. Sherlock held her tightly, running his hands through her hair and over the contours of her body; he pulled away from her slightly, to brush away her tears and brush his thumb over her lips, assessing her injuries feelings outrage at the ones responsible. Irene did the same, looking intently at Sherlock, before suddenly stopping, and wiggling out of his grip.

'Irene.' He said and her head snapped up to glare at him anger.

'You bastard.' She spat.

'Irene, I sent you away for your own good.' He replied tensely, knowing exactly what she was referring too.

'I asked you if I could stop running and you sent me away!' She screamed incensed, throwing her hands out blindly in an attempt to wound the man that hurt her so. 'I just wanted to finally settle down and have a home and you sent me away!' She screamed again getting more and more frustrated when her blows to Sherlock's chest seemed ineffectual in wounding him.

Instead he just let her pummel him, he didn't even flinch, she wasn't even sure if it actually hurt. 'Fight back!' She demanded, stepping back slightly with a dreadfully sad face, assaulted with tears and her cheeks were flushed bright red.

'Fight back you bastard.' This time her scream came out as more of a broken sob, and Sherlock took the opportunity to finally intervene and calm the woman who owned his heart. His hands caught her wrists tightly and he forced her arms to fold against her chest and then he quickly pulled her to him trapping her against his chest. She didn't fight back this time.

His hands came to stroke her hair and lower back, muttering a single and heartfelt apology. She cried into his shoulder, when she suddenly noticed a particularly horrid injury on his shoulder. His shirt was bloody and the right shoulder hung more limply then the left.

She suddenly choked out a new rawer sob.

'Oh Sherlock, this is all my fault.' She cried, tentatively reaching forward to touch his sore shoulder. Sherlock looked confused for all of a second, before realising what she meant. 'Irene no, don't think that.' He said, knowing she was now referring to more than just tonight's events, but Irene was already miles ahead on the guilt train, and was shaking her head in disgust at herself.

'I love you ok. Please just remember that.' She whispered, touching his cheek before turning to leave once again. Sherlock was outraged.

'No Irene you come back here, you don't run away this time.' Sherlock yelled grabbing onto her arm and yanking her back towards him. Sherlock was strong and she literally crashed against him with his strength.

'I got to go! I can't, I can't let you get hurt again.' She yelled and when she tried to get away again, he grabbed her around the waist and brutally held on despite Irene's sudden scream of protest from the pain he was eliciting on her.

'Sherlock please,' She screamed when he dug his fingers deep into her ribs. He felt her body squirm with discomfort and ache. He would never intentionally hurt her, but he was incensed, he couldn't let her go. Not this time.

And so it was a fight; a desperate struggle and it did not go without tears and screams and cries and Sherlock holding so tightly, he bruised Irene's delicate skin. He holds on with all the strength he has and it's exceptionally more than hers and she knows it. That is why she screams at him and yells and fights and even bites, testing just how far she can push it, but he still doesn't let go. And that is the reason why she cries, it is because she is grateful that he won't. She is finally at home with Holmes and she is safe.

She stays as close as she can to Sherlock's chest, wishing to become a part of him, whilst he kisses her many bruises and sores. And when he whispers to her that she needn't run anymore, she lets out a small, delicate sigh of relief.

'Thank you.' She says and lifts her head to kiss Sherlock passionately on the lips.

He carries her over to the bed, and that night, neither slept much as they expressed in a beautiful passionate embrace just how much they loved each other. They weren't out the woods yet, but at least they had stopped fighting against the path.

**Hope you like, I'm really not sure about this one...**

**Frailly x**


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